Chapter Ten
Dallas
I wake to the sight of an unfamiliar patchwork quilt partially covering my face. A moment of fuzzy disorientation follows, but gradually coalesces into consciousness. It’s daylight. I smell wood smoke and hear the lazy crackle of a fire near my head. Then I remember. I’m in Levi’s cabin, on an old couch I insisted on sleeping on to stay close to Mason. Mason!
I push aside the quilt with one hand and peer out. I’m greeted with the vision of Levi, awake and dressed, sitting in the beat-up armchair a few feet away. In his arms is a bundle of blankets, our son wrapped within. He gazes adoringly into Mason’s little face, wearing a smile that only a parent can pull off.
The baby makes little cooing noises, his tiny hands grasping at Levi’s beard. The scene is both comical and heartrending. I don’t want to spoil it by letting them know I’m awake. If I had any doubts about how Levi would react to being a father, they are all dispelled now. It’s plain to see he’s as in love with Mason as I am. But is he still in love with me? He said the words, his desire painfully obvious back at the motel, but people say and do lots of things under stressful circumstances. And I can’t deny things are stressful.
I let my eyes wander the room, noting details I couldn’t possibly have seen in the shadows of last night. The place is small, definitely having lacked the benefit of TLC for an extended period, but it has the cozy feel of a family cottage that was loved and enjoyed for many generations. I didn’t know much about Mrs. Strongbow, but feel a sudden kinship with her knowing her roots were as simple and local as mine.
The fireplace behind me has a stone front and hearth. The rugged wooden mantel that’s about six inches thick props up the photos I’d looked at, as well as an old-fashioned alarm clock with oversized bells on the top. It seems no one has wound it in some time; it’s not ticking.
Above the mantel hangs an ominous, long-barrelled firearm. I know nothing about guns or rifles, and wonder if it’s a working machine or simply there for show—an antique or flea market find. It doesn’t look modern, but I remember Levi said he had his dad’s rifle with him the day he disappeared. Could this be the same one? The murder weapon?
I’m lying on a sofa that seems to have more springs than it does padding. I can feel every lump and dip in its aging cushions, and my back may never be the same after this. I wonder if Levi actually got some sleep or spent the entire night sitting in that chair cuddling his newfound son. The thought makes me smile. Pale rays of sunlight reach into the room from tall, mullioned window panes at the front of the room. It’s true what they say. No matter how dark things get, they always do seem brighter in the morning. Perhaps this will all blow over in a few days, and we’ll be back to our normal lives before we know it.
But even so, things will never be the same. With Levi in the picture, I can’t go back to being a single mother living off my parents. He has a responsibility, after all. All indications are that he plans to live up to it, to be the father figure. But how? Is he willing to leave this wilderness hideaway he’s entrenched himself in? Or does he expect me to embrace it along with him? Too many questions and too few answers.
“You two trading fish stories?” I ask, my voice rough with sleep and lingering flu symptoms.
Levi looks up and smiles. “Just getting to know each other a bit better. I think he likes me.”
“I think he’d like you to change his diaper,” I reply with a chuckle.
A look of alarm crosses Levi’s bearded features. “Oh. I’ve never done that before.”
“No time like the present to learn,” I say, rolling back the quilt and sitting up. I mourn the loss of cozy warmth beneath the covers but welcome the relief from rusted, spine-torturing coil springs. The pleasant heat radiating from the fireplace makes the room temperature comfortable enough. A smirk crosses my face at Levi’s panicked expression, but my eyes are drawn to the bulging muscles of his biceps revealed by the short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He was always in shape, but somehow his time here in the woods has sculpted his body into rock hard perfection. I shouldn’t be surprised. Physical work is unavoidable when you are no longer attended by valets and personal assistants. The result is certainly rousing my hormones, but I will them into submission, just as I had when refusing Levi’s invitation to share his loft bed last night. Right now, we have unpleasant, but more important business to attend to.
I walk over to grab the diaper bag, then take Mason from Levi and lay him on the floor on top of his blankets. “Okay, dad, here’s how it’s done.” I show him how to open Mason’s sleeper and slip the waterproof change mat beneath his bottom. Levi stares at the very soggy disposable diaper clinging to his legs. “Pull those tapes and take the wet one off,” I say, unfolding a fresh diaper ready for installation.
“Uh, okay.” He does as instructed, recoiling slightly at the aromatic fumes released by the unfastened nappy. I laugh as I hand him a cleansing wipe.
“You’ll get used to it. Give him a wipe, from back to front.” I take the soiled diaper and roll it up for disposal, reminded of how I’d used the last one as a defense mechanism. My heart goes cold as the memory flashes in my mind. I don’t know how, but that man managed to follow us from the police station and tracked us to the Hungry Bear. Could he have seen us leave there, too? Could he be waiting outside in the forest right now? I hand Levi the new diaper in exchange for the used cloth. “Lift his legs and slide it underneath his butt, then fasten the tapes.”
“Got it. There. Not so tough.” Mason kicks his feet, happy to be warm and dry once more. Levi laughs and catches one foot, wiggling the toes with his thumb. “Feels good, huh, buddy?”
“What do you do with your trash?” I ask, gesturing with the dirty diaper and wipe in my hands. I can’t exactly expect weekly garbage pickup in this neighborhood. Levi glances down at the refuse, his adorably bushy eyebrows knotting together. The simple life sometimes isn’t so simple.
“I guess we’ll bury it,” he says, his nostrils flaring in a distasteful sniff. “Deep.” He takes the items from me and rises to stand. “But after breakfast. You two must be starved by now.” He walks to the kitchen area, dropping the bundle near the door on his way past. “There’s wash water over here.” He points to an old, chipped basin atop a makeshift stand next to the wood stove and pours some heated water into it from a long-handled pot on the stove. I shake my head in wonderment. Not so much at the rustic conventions that must be relied upon while away from civilization. I’ve been camping often enough to know. Just the vision of the privileged, card-carrying city slicker having been reduced to these methods. You really can learn things when you have to, just as he said.
“Sounds great. What’s on the menu?” I leave Mason where he is for the moment while I take advantage of the warm bowl of water and a bar of soap next to it.
“Fried ham and biscuits. How does that grab you?”
“No coffee?” I tease.
“Um, I don’t think you’re ready for the coffee I make. How about tea instead?”
“Sure.” I return to the old armchair and haul Mason into my lap, feeding him from the jars of baby food in my bag while Levi putters in his “kitchen.” Luckily, I still have the disposable spoon from the farmer’s market and don’t have to ask Levi for one. I don’t even know if he has such an item. I let out a sigh. Just one more complication to living in the middle of nowhere. Silently, I conclude that this situation really is unworkable.
We eat ham and biscuits together and drink tea, taking turns holding Mason. The cabin interior is now bright with sunlight streaming in.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Levi says, handing Mason off to me while he clears the food away. “Looks like a beautiful day.”
It certainly does. I wish I hadn’t had to leave Mason’s stroller behind. I picture some homeless person pushing around discarded bottles and cans with it at this very moment, and heave another regrettable sigh. In any case, I think we could all use some fresh air, and a walk sounds lovely. Still, the thought that someone could be waiting for us out there gnaws at the back of my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if I should ask Levi to take that rifle along for the trip.